Anora's Wedding
by Zeeji
Summary: Anora's thoughts the day of her wedding to Alistair.  Companion piece to Alistair's Wedding.


**_This is written as a companion piece to Alistair's Wedding. Thanks to Wyl, who suggested I write the story from Anora's point of view. I hope you enjoy!_**

She stood in front of her mirror, smoothing non-existent Thifrom her satin dress. Everything had to be perfect. After all, today was her wedding day, such as it was. It wasn't as if she really had a choice in the matter. The Landsmeet had decided against her, in favor of her father-in-law's bastard son. Nothing could ever make her understand how the nobles chose that idiot over her, but in the end her choice was to either marry the fool or be exiled… or worse.

Carefully, she reached over and opened her jewel chest. Her hand rummaged through the extravagant necklaces until she finally located the gem she was searching for. It was a huge sapphire, a gift from her deceased husband, which originally belonged to her deceased mother-in-law. That single word, deceased, now seemed to dominate her vocabulary. Her mother and father-in-law, both deceased; her mother, deceased; her husband, deceased; now even her father was deceased.

With her father's death, she no longer had anyone dependable in her life. Of course, her father had betrayed her as well, so had she ever had anyone she could truly trust? A sad smile passed over her face as she remembered the only person she had been able to depend on. Others had tried to destroy what they had, but he never allowed it to come about. Her golden king, her husband and friend, wouldn't allow his uncle to convince him to leave her behind. They had grown up together, thick as thieves, and no one could separate them.

Well, her father saw to that, didn't he? Her father made sure that Cailen died to insure her position as queen when he learned that Eamon wanted Cailen to leave her, accusing her of being barren. Instead, now she was forced to marry a man who had no redeeming value except that he happened to have been sired by the last of Calenhad's descendants in order to retain a fraction of what she had been.

How could Alistair possibly be from the same lineage as her husband? The only thing they seemed to have in common was their resemblance to their shared father. Cailen was far more intelligent than he let on. It was to his advantage that the nobles believed Anora to be the one who actually ran the country. By playing dumb he was able to learn far more from the nobles than they would allow themselves to reveal if they felt he had the ability to process their intents. Cailen and Anora had made a good team. She missed him more with each passing day as she felt more and more alone.

Anora looked in the mirror as she placed the sapphire necklace around her neck. It was the perfect choice for the neckline of the dress, and it emphasized the blue tint of her eyes beautifully. She rechecked her makeup and hair. Everything had to be perfect. She couldn't show a single flaw. Anything could be used against her, and she had no one to save her should anything go wrong.

A single tear managed to escape from her eye as she remembered her wedding to Cailen. They had both been so full of hope and happiness. It may not have been a perfect pairing, but her husband had always protected her. Now she stood alone, with no friends or family.

A soft knock on the door announced her elven maid, Erlina, as she entered the room.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, your majesty, but the coach has arrived to bring you to the chantry. Is there anything else you need?"

Anora tried to smile at her. Erlina was the closest thing to a friend that she had, not that she could ever allow herself to be friends with an elf. "I… I am ready."

Erlina opened the door and followed her employer as she slowly walked down the long hallway of the palace, accompanied on either side by members of the Palace Guard. No one spoke a word as they assisted her into the carriage. Anora sat alone on the seat as they rode through the streets of Denerim. She heard the people as they passed. Many cheered for their queen, and yet many lodged insults as well. Her commoner roots were haunting her now. The people had a new champion in Alistair. He killed the archdemon and won their hearts. For all the good Anora had done while Cailen was king, the people only remembered their dead king and her father's betrayal of him at Ostagar. None of her deeds were remembered, only that she was the daughter of Loghain Mac Tier, the Traitor of Ferelden.

Finally they arrived at the chantry, and the footman helped her exit the carriage gracefully. Again she smoothed her dress. When she married Cailen, her father had been there to offer his strong arm in support as she walked down the aisle of the sanctuary. Today she was forced to walk alone, toward the man she despised nearly as much as he despised her.

Taking a deep breath, she began her walk down the center aisle. _"This is about survival, Anora,"_ she thought to herself. _"We must do whatever it takes to survive."_ She looked up at her groom. _"Maker, must he always grin like a fool? Can't he be serious for one moment?"_ She watched as he seemed to chuckle, and she felt an icy shudder go down her spine. "_He's laughing at me – what has he got planned for me? He seemed like he was at least a decent idiot, but perhaps he's depraved? Will this be survival or merely a slower death?"_

As she took her place at his side, she couldn't help but frown. She tried to maintain her composure by biting on the inside of her cheek, but it took nearly every bit of internal strength to keep from running away. Anora tried to focus on the words spoken by the Reverend Mother, but the woman seemed to talk for an eternity. The words she dreaded the most were finally spoken, "You may kiss your bride."

As Alistair leaned down toward her, Anora turned her face to the side. She could tolerate a quick kiss on the cheek from her groom, but she needed to retain her composure. Then, he did something she never thought he would. He placed his hand on her cheek and forced a kiss on her mouth. It may have been gentle, and almost seemed thoughtful, but it was still not what she expected nor desired.

As he pulled away from her with yet another idiotic smile, Anora raged inside. Somehow she managed to pull herself together enough to make it out of the chantry and into the carriage. As her groom settled himself into the compartment next to her, she looked at him and lost her temper, slapping him hard on his cheek.

His hand quickly rubbed the assaulted cheek. "Ow! What was that for?"

She glared at him. How could this man be such an idiot? "How dare you force yourself on me, especially in front of all of our constituents? You will not do that again, do you understand? Not only did you make me look like a fool, you have ruined my makeup!"

Alistair sat up straight and looked at her with his own glare. "No, I think it is time that you started to understand a few things. First and foremost, I am the King of Ferelden, not you. You have been made my wife simply to make things easier for me. You will perform your duties as I see fit, not the other way around. As for our wedding kiss, it is a Ferelden tradition for the bride and groom to kiss on the mouth, not the cheek. Had I allowed you to get away with that, you would have diminished my standing in the eyes of my people. I will not permit you to interfere with my reign as king. Not in any way."

"You may have been my brother's wife, and he may have allowed you to act as the ruler, but that will not be the case in this marriage. You are here for one reason – to appease the people who support you. Your job is to support me, and to provide an heir. I believe there should be a finite amount of time for that to happen, so we will discuss what would be appropriate as soon as it would be seemly for me to meet with my advisors after our honeymoon. Let me make myself perfectly clear, Anora; I have no problem finding a reason to set you aside and find another wife. Give me a reason, my dear, and you will be out of my life permanently. Do you have any questions?"

Anora's eyes flashed with anger. No one had ever spoken to her in such a fashion in her life, and she wasn't quite certain how to respond. She had, no doubt, underestimated the man, and suddenly she was very afraid. "You are not a gentleman like your brother. He would never be so… abrupt with me."

Alistair raised his eyebrow as he responded angrily. "No, I am not my brother. As far as being a gentleman is concerned, being a gentleman does not mean a man has to allow himself to be stepped or spat upon. Cailan was a fool to allow you to walk all over him, and I will not make the same mistake. Your place is either standing beside me in support, or gone from my sight. When I say gone, I mean truly gone. Follow my lead, or be removed from my party. Got it?"

Anora tried to move away from him on the seat. Fear almost consumed her, but she tried very hard to show no emotion on her face. "I… understand."

"Good." Alistair grinned at her, making her feel more fear. "For now, we will attend our reception with our guests. You will dance with me and pretend that you are having the time of your life. Who knows, maybe you will actually find that you are, indeed, enjoying yourself!" His eyes flashed at her. "As far as your makeup is concerned, I believe it's about time you stopped being so perfect all the time. I believe the people will appreciate you more if you were more like them, instead of seeming to be so far above them."

With that, he reached over and mussed up her hair, pulling out the hairpins that had been so carefully placed in her buns. Her hair fell in two long braids with hairs escaping around her face. As her groom bellowed in laughter, Anora tried to collect the jeweled hairpins that were now strewn about the riding compartment.

Alistair sat back on the seat, his face seeming to revel in her discomfort. She had never known a man to be so cruel, so calculating. How could she face the public looking so disheveled? She tried not to shiver in fear, but it was very difficult. Somehow she would have to survive living with this man who obviously had no respect for her whatsoever.

Anora was not happy when she realized her new husband was looking at her the same way the stable manager would appraise a new horse.

"You know, you should wear your hair down. It would make you look friendlier. I think the people would like you better." Again he reached over to her and pulled out the ribbons that tied the ends of her braids. After running his fingers through her hair to release the braids, he looked at her approvingly.

Anora didn't know how to respond. The only sound that escaped her throat was a suppressed scream that somehow resembled a growl. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked out the window opposite her husband, trying to stop the tears that threatened to flood her eyes.

"You look beautiful now, not just pretty. It's about time that you allowed yourself to be human." Anora was shocked to hear the words that had just come from her groom. _"He thinks I'm beautiful with my hair down and mussed beyond hope? Is this man serious?"_

The carriage stopped in front of the palace, and Alistair jumped out. Gallantly, he held his hand out to his bride to assist her. "Time to smile, dearest. We wouldn't want our people to think you aren't enjoying yourself, do we?" He smiled sweetly at her as he winked.

Anora looked up at him and forced a smile.

"That's it; now keep that up for the next several hours and everything will be just peachy!" Alistair took her hand to lead her into the reception. Anora looked at his face, surprised to see that he seemed to honestly look… happy. Perhaps he was being honest with her? It would take time to know if she could trust him, but perhaps he was more like his father and brother than she thought. It was possible that there was hope for this marriage after all. She promised herself that she would try her best; after all, she owed it to her people. Duty was more important than anything else, and Anora Mac Tier Theirin would do everything in her power to fulfill her duty to Ferelden.


End file.
